Pics from the Saigon Zoo...err Xu

Here are some pictures from Sarah and Christoff’s combined “Quarter of a Century” birthday party at Xu in Saigon. Just for the record, the “blurred background” and “intelligent lighting” effects were the desired and intended outcomes of the photographer (which, in most cases, was not me) and in no way reflect the level of inebriation of the above-mentioned artist.

If you come from Dalat, are you “Dalatian”?

I felt a bit like Duncan MacLeod from Highlander as we descended to Lien Khang Airport, minus Queen’s epic “Princes of the Universe”, Christopher Lambert’s cheesy haircut and killer sword (so I guess I felt very little like Duncan MacLeod in fact). The only thing in common was actually the aspect of “highlands”, the term with which one could describe Dalat’s surroundings.

View of the countryside

See, Sarah and I flew up to Dalat in Vietnam’s Central Highlands region, about 300 km from HCM City (and only 45 minutes by plane), to celebrate her birthday last weekend. The first thing we noticed was the cool weather, a distinct difference from the sweltering humidity of Saigon. Even while cruising mountain passes in search of the next waterfall, the temperature was never uncomfortably cold – just nippy enough to put a spring in your step.

Sarah at the Datanla Falls about 7 km outside Dalat

The second thing you notice is the change of scenery. It’s green, as in Jolly Green Giant green, everywhere. As you take the 25 km journey from the airport to the city, or should I say town as its population is less than 200 000, the scenery changes from rural, ramshackle abodes with pale green, checkered patches of various vegetables in the yard (you know the kind – with the scrawny chickens scratching in the dust), to imposing and fragrant dark green pine forests bold enough to impose themselves right up to the edge of the windy road as you ascend up to Dalat.

A view of the city from the cable car building

The town itself felt like a Vietnamese version of a Mediterranean coastal town, with the same cliff-built houses and coffee-shops, with locals lazing around on street corners and sporting the same narrow, winding road effect. Dalat's also the home of the beret-wearing, goatee-sporting "bohemian" types. We never did forget where we are though, as the omnipresent, neon-lit “Eiffel Tower” made us feel right at home.

View of the town square with Cho Dalat (Dalat Market on the left)

That damn "Eiffel Tower" is like a "Where's Waldo?" - it pops up everywhere!

The communications tower wasn’t the only Vietnamese kitch, which we’ve all grown to love, on offer: You can rent swan-shaped paddle boats for a spin on the lake, there are neon-lit clubs and coffee-shops, including the Ngoc Lan Eyesore Hotel which mysteriously dominates in the background of all photos, no matter which angle you take them from! Horse-and-carriage rides around the lake, walks in the wilting flower garden (maybe it was just the wrong season), jostling and elbowing other tourists for a spot to pose in front of one of the numerous waterfalls dotting the region – or even taking the “coasterbob” rollercoaster down the hill to the Datanla Falls. You name it, Dalat’s got it in abundance, except we didn’t see any pink, ceramic flamingoes…

A view from a swan

I'm not ashamed to say I loved it immensely, kitsch and all, and not just cause I got to spend it with my kickass girlfriend. The people are damn hospitable. Check out the Dreams Hotel on Pham Dinh Phung Street to see what I mean. The owner, Mrs Dung, has received rave reviews and they’re all justified. The rooms aren’t much to look at, but the accommodating and forthcoming nature of the staff (as well as the killer breakfast with Marmite and Vegemite – a rarity in Vietnam) more than made up for it.

At the Tiger Falls

The people, the weather, the beautiful scenery, (and all the other little weird things like the ghost restaurant we ate at on the Sunday) added up to a pretty damn good weekend and I think Sarah loved her birthday as much as I did.

The cable car that takes you over a 2.3 km expanse of green foliage to a reservoir and Buddhist monastry

A view of Xuan Huong Lake by night

What a suprissss...

And here I was thinking the weekend would be spent watching the FA Cup and chilling out at home. Susan and my girlfriend Sarah organised a surprise “belated birthday party” for me at this specialty snake restaurant in Go Vap Disrict (the address was 418 Nguyen Phan Tri or something like that). I thought Sarah was dragging me along to meet Bich and Minh, some of her friends from Hanoi, but instead I was met by some of our friends who supposedly all had other plans that evening, bloody scoundrels the lot of them, and madame Bich and monsieur Minh were nowhere to be found.

This place was a bit leftfield. They have these large aquariums filled with dead snakes being bitten by dead birds, being chowed by dead lice all submerged in a reddish, gooey rice wine. Another box displayed a wine-immersed dead seal surrounded by pickled seal’s penises and one with armadillos surrounded by giant lizards. It reminded me of my grade 10 Biology class excursion to Tygerberg Hospital where they took us on a tour of the pathology unit…shudder. Think hermaphrodites, cyclops babies, charred lungs and alcohol-swollen, grotesque livers, all wonderfully preserved in pungent formaldehyde-filled glass jars.

Back to the story. The snakeman chose a cobra, made it grovel and crawl around on the floor for a while, ritualistically washed it and peristaltically worked the heart up its body. Sweat dripping off his nose, he then whipped out his scalpel, cut open the cobra and removed the still-beating heart with surgical precision, severed the arteries and put it in a shot glass. He then drained the blood, as well as the bile, mixed it with some rice wine and voila! We had two bottles of instant snakeblood wine. Not for the tree-hugging type.

I sunk the cardiac shot, which had the consistency and texture of an oyster and, contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t an aphrodisiac (boo!), didn't give me hallucinogenic visions or even endow me with super serpent-like senses. In fact, I couldn’t even remember what happened about an hour afterwards. I feared the worse though, thinking I’d flip out and die a horrible death like the Greek philosophers Aeschylus or Chrysippus (Aeschylus died when an eagle dropped a live tortoise on his head and Chrysippus supposedly died of laughter after watching his inebriated donkey try to munch on some figs). Actually, it might have had a strange effect as I ended up at a karaoke bar, something which I would never condone whilst in the motherly clutches of sobriety or even the slightly clawed talons of simple inebriation.

Nevertheless, I am happy I am still here and in one piece, not grown a sudden liking for mouse-meat, rolling my “s’s” and that my tongue hasn’t forked. I’m also eternally grateful to Suzie and Sarah for organising it. I still don't have a clue who the hell Bich or Minh are though...

More Fire (Pig)!

In between all the Myanmaresque musings, I just thought it would be appropriate to enlighten all those who don't know that this is not just the year of the pig, my Chinese Zodiac sign and the last in the 12-sign Zodiac, but in fact the year of the fire pig.

Now this dude who claims to be a mystic, shaman type sangoma dude (who was in fact just a shady old berg with BO) at the Shwe Dagon Paya in Yangon already read my future (for one kyat - about $0.8) and said "This year, my friend, you're going to be 100% lucky", but for a skeptic like myself I thought I'd just double-check. So I checked a Chinese horoscope website, which gave my rating as 49%, thus now I have empirical evidence that, without an iota of doubt, I am 74.5% lucky this year.

So as my friends The Rudimentals always say: "Yo yo, hog diggidly dog piglet, show us MORE FIRE!"

From www.virginmedia.com

Raai wie's 21?

Raai wie's 21?

(Disclaimer: Nie rêrig Alet nie)

Ek hoop dit was 'n kickass dag Delanie!